Awoke he...

Awoke he then one day to rule the world
His foot upon their necks, the backs so curl'd...
And feet to neck...

Paper figures made of skin
Bones and feelings crammed within
Flesh too often lost to sin...

Awoke he then one day to rule the world
To die the next by his own sword...

Hunting Grounds

Amongst the wolves thou treadst the night

Pierduti-n umbre toti se-nhait'

And slip through every beam of light

Pierduti-n bezna crunt se vait'...

Unearthly howls...pack stealth'ly crawls

Its purpose foul's...its gaze appals

The very beat of light within

Their fiery eyes engorged in sin...

And carriest thou thy laughter light

And steps thine heart pours through the night...